Viewing Log #58: Midterm slide into weekend vegetabling [11/1/10 - 11/7/10]

by Ryland Walker Knight

• The second season finale of Eastbound & Down [Jody Hill, 2010]. Well, I'll tell you what. I liked the abrupt ending, to be certain, despite my fear of it simply setting up a third season, but aside from that I think the storytelling in this season was a lot sloppier and mean-spirited than the first go-round. Also, more sentimental, which means not as funny, but that's how these things go. Not everybody can be Ricky Gervais or Larry David, to pick two other comedies I've enjoyed on HBO. This one's worth seeing, at any rate, if only for the not-cool confidence of the great creation that is Kenny Fucking Powers.
  
• Hamlet [Michael Almereyda, 2000] # Truly inventive adaptation with all the play of media and the visual puns and all that image-making throughout. Ethan Hawke is a limp prince in a lot of respects but mostly it's his clipped in voice and his too-2000 shaggy mane. Julia Stiles can't win with that wardrobe, or with that twinned lack of cadence and presence. No surprise that Bill Murray's the best thing going, giving each line a thoughtful reading (however much he's hamming, he's playing a ham) and each line makes me laugh; he truly gets it, he's not reciting. But, as I opened this note, the performances are largely secondary to the formal fun of video and film and montage and reflections. Almereyda's almost saying cinema exists to perpetuate itself (as the only medium for myth any more) but it seems more likely that he's less obsessed with cinema the way Godard is than he is simply obsessed with images and how images talk (which is still Godardian, and of an Eisensteinian inheritance).
  
  
• Candyman [Bernard Rose, 1992] # It'd been ages so I'd forgotten plenty. It's plenty gross and still scary and probably fertile ground for a paper just like the one the film's out to lampoon in the first place. Also worth watching for the simple fact that it's got an intrepid female protagonist that I think lives up to these criteria.
  
• Reno 911!: Miami [Ben Garant, 2007] Mercifully brief and often a knee-slapper. Think this comedy's style's better suited to the TV, but I enjoyed the afternoon laundry time so I could care less if it could be "better."
  
• Obvious Child [Gillian Robspierre, 2009] Which you can watch here. As Martha wrote some time ago, the simple fact that this kind of story exists is an achievement, though slightly dubious, and what's really great about it is that it treats the issue not as an issue but a pragmatic choice and it's not about emotions, though there's that hook of the initial scene's "cold truth" and there's the honest head hanging on the morning of the abortion, because it's simply about a single event that happened to this one funny lady. Given Jenny Slate's actually doing some real acting here under her goof steeze (and that's encouraging, proof that she's got a future), my only quibble is the "Uno" thing at the end; but that's as fine a way to end this little thing as it would be to ask the dude if wants to play checkers; i.e., I'm glad there wasn't another make out scene. Cuz those are the worst!
  
  
• Tim and Eric Awesome Tour Great Job! 2010 Pusswhip went on too long for my old bones to enjoy standing still with a grin and a toe tapping, but otherwise it was just what I wanted. And more! John C. Reilly showed up as Steve Brule to much deserved adulation and went on to kill, from a few tips on health to a health exam of a pretty young lady (he touched her boobs, yes, among a slow slew of nosey, pointed questions) to an awkward slow dance with said lady. And Neil Hamburger was great, with some real good jokes that made people uncomfy. But the real stars were the real stars. Even if the facial jokes are often lost without a close-up or a sound effect. In any case, awesome show great job! I could never do any of that!
  
  
• Quick Change [Howard Franklin and Bill Murray, 1990] # Always loved this one, this picture of New York as one roadblock after another, as a place built to thwart dreams as often as to afford their possibility. The filmmaking is "functional" but not "bad" and, you know, that's largely "okay" because the picture (Bill Murray) is hilarious. Honestly? I'll take this over After Hours any day.
  
  
• The 'Burbs [Joe Dante, 1989] # Good fun for a late night, though that one neighbor's motormouth just doesn't shut up. Like, ever. Funny to see Dick Miller in this (however small the garbage man role) after last week seeing his first real role in that Corman. I'd forgotten Carrie Fischer's Hanks' wife, too, and that was cool.

Viewing Log #57: The rest of October

by Ryland Walker Knight

—Words to live by, baby

• Eastbound & Down [S2E6, David Gordon Green, 2010] An attempt to sweep away some of the mean spiritedness of the previous episodes that gets by on the hilarity of certain foibles and the sheer audacity of the racism. This can't end well.
  
• Boardwalk Empire "Home" [Allen Coulter, 2010] Boring, poorly written, bathetic to no end.
  
• Bucket of Blood [Roger Corman, 1959] The way a B picture should be made: with laughs, with a twisted idea for horror that makes bodies a source of revulsion, and art.
  
  
• Rio Bravo [Howard Hawks, 1959] # Sometimes I think it's the best movie ever. And, I'm easily a part of the camp that loves Hawks because most of the movies are about the guys, hanging in a hang zone, helping define friendship. But all the films have women who can hold their own, as does Angie Dickinson here, and there's such respect for all the minorities on the sidelines; people are just people in Hawks. Oh, and this song is pretty great.
  
  
• Spread [David Mackenzie, 2009] I like what I.V. wrote here. Weird, though, to make a career of deflating what "love" can mean to dumb people yet without any kind of high-and-mighty Creator judgments. The project is admirable, in a way, but equally suspect given all that attention to explicit sex. The best thing about those scenes, though, isn't the fact that there's flesh galore but that each piece (of ass?) is about how these characters are relating to each other. But, when your protagonists are mostly idiots, the "lessons" such as they are can be rather simple and predictable. In any case, Kutcher is perfect. Never thought I'd say that. But it definitely comes with the caveat that he's perfect at being despicable for most of the movie, and then perfect as a punchline at its end.
  
  
• The second half of season three of The Sopranos [David Chase?, 2002] # is no less brutal and often yet more hilarious, with Ralphie as one of the greatest villains ever, and with Tony acting ever more the pent up jerk. Watching the series now, with some distance, it's so much clearer to me just how bad Tony is, how great at being a sociopath he is even this close to the beginning.

—Please remove your hat

Viewing Log #56: October highlights so far

by Ryland Walker Knight

• Jackass 3D [Jeff Tremaine, 2010] Despite more full cock shots, less queer than the other 2, and especially the better parts of 2, which is my favorite of the trilogy. The most curious thing in the flick is just how little they seem to enjoy the process besides Knoxville and WeeMan. Steve-O, in particular, looks to be only going through the motions. But, still, I laughed so hard my nose began to run.
  
• Eastbound & Down [Jody Hill et al, 2010] Just waiting on the finale now. It got darker, that's for sure, and easily a lot meaner. Not sure these are good things. It's really weird just how much this crew, despite making a comedy series, is really interested in making Real Art that does a lot to Say Something under the guise of foul language and attitudes. I'm curious (1) if they'll be around in 20 years and (2) what in the hell they could be mad about then.
  
• Boardwalk Empire [Terrence Winter, 2010] That is, so far. And so far so-so. Plenty of stuff to like, plenty of stuff I could plain do without, like those opening titles.
  
• Blazing Saddles [Mel Brooks, 1974] # Gene Wilder is the best person in the world with Harvey Korman and Slim Pickens running a close tie behind him.
  
• High Anxiety [Mel Brooks, 1977] # A lesser effort, to be sure, but some timing gags work perfectly; and some of the spoof elements are pretty great. Mostly, I enjoyed how much my sister enjoyed it.
  
• Fantastic Mr. Fox [Wes Anderson, 2009] # A joy.
  
• The jerk [Carl Reiner, 1979] # Still my favorite Steve Martin movie. A fine reminder of what once amounted to a particular kind of comedic genius.
  
• Plenty of 30 Rock's latest season, which I'm enjoying.
  
• Code Unknown [Michael Haneke, 2000] Not really a highlight, but it's made very well. Once again I'm left thinking: sure, but you can also go to hell, Herr H.
  
• The Loved One [Evelyn Waugh, 1948] Narrow in the right ways, this may be a perfect novel, though sometimes the wit gets just a tad cute.
  
• Louis C.K.: Chewed Up [2008] Dude's on fire.
  
• Freedom [Jonathan Franzen, 2010] I'm fine with it! In fact, I find it really entertaining in good ways, though I also find a lot of the writing clumsy in that the on-purpose-clumsiness just feels clumsy sometimes. Still, I'm happy I read it, and read it then (this year, this moment). Doubt I'll ever pick it up again.
  
• Henry IV: Part One in Ashland, Oregon at the Shakespeare Festival with my dad. My legs got pretty cold, but that was alright. What truly fascinated me was just how much more interesting an actor the guy who played Hal was than the guy who played Falstaff. Not typical.

Viewing Log #42: What's broken's broken but glue's going around [4/19/10 - 4/25/10]

by Ryland Walker Knight

• Treme "Right Place, Wrong Time" [S1E3, Ernest Dickerson, 2010] A marked, knowing improvement that casts a shadow on a lot of bad behavior and surprises with some real evil behavior and a genuine apology. Also, a beautiful final shot capping a beautiful final scene. Still don't like the scraggly keyboardist dude.
  
  
• Marwencol [Jeff Malmberg, 2010] Watched it in pieces over the week. It plays next week at the festival. I recommend it. I'll try to write something a little longer in a bit. Here's the film's website.
  
  
• Party Down "Steve Guttenberg's Birthday" [S2E5, Bryan Gordon, 2010] Not sure why Starz is showing this one now on demand, but of course I'll watch it. Guttenberg's great, really commits, and Ryan Hansen is perfect as that bleached idiot. And this one had not just a McLovin cameo but also Lizzy Caplan in a hot tub and jokes about people in AA having "real" drinking problems that Ron doesn't have; funniest is that you kind of believe him, that AA's just a put-on for him.
  
• Party Down "Jackal Onassis Backstage Party" [S2E1, Bryan Gordon, 2010] Everything I loved about the first season, minus Jane Lynch. Except Megan Mullally is an apt substitute in a different (ok: shorter, stupider) way. Still love Lizzy Caplan's insecurity and her smile (like a lot of boys, I trust), and Adam Scott is pretty underrated for his tight-wad act. I'm sure it'll unravel, though, as tensions and jokes mount.
  
  
• 36 vues du Pic St. Loup [Jacques Rivette, 2009] # Big surprise, I know: on film it's even better. The colors mean a ton, as does the graceful slide of most camera set ups. Even the static ones aren't static—they likely push somewhere, or open another space through simple framing or an edit. My favorite edit is the one along that wall when Birkin's getting ready to leave; she walks across the pipe dividing her and Sergio Castellitto and then past him off camera; he turns, smirks, and follows; there's an edit to five more, different feet of wall adjacent; a new tact of conversation begins, however hesitant, until Sergio disagrees and exits in the opposite direction (the way he came in). My favorite camera move is the one from outside the tent, watching Sergio walk over wires to stay in the frame as he approaches André Marcon in the foreground, then their little dance plays out in medium, then Sergio moves into the tent with the camera to find Birkin alone on a riser surrounded by blue. That's the other joy of this little, dense film: Sergio Castellitto dances through it, enters every scene as an interloper from the background and then stirs things up or plays a bit in a messy way. It reaches its apogee when he takes the stage. I should try to write some more about why I love this thing, but all the regulars are there: acting, physical comedy, some wordplay (in secondary languages), a cohesive mise-en-scene that makes jokes out of every scene's structure, sadness mixed with hilarity, and brevity. Also, just my luck that got to see it with Danny. Then I made this from materials at home.
  
  
• Lost "The Last Recruit" [S6E13, Stephen Semel, 2010] Certainly entertaining, but still table setting. We watched it with a lot of noise, so that might also explain why I only did some images in this post.
  
• The Holy Girl [Lucrecia Martel, 2002] # Looking at a certain scene for a certain piece of writing that should have been done ages ago.
  
  
• Treme "Meet De Boys on the Battlefront" [S1E2, Jim McKay, 2010] The first half had me not just let down but actively pissed off at its narrow ideas; but the murder and a few other things in the second half made me think twice about writing it off. Clarke Peters sure is something.

Viewing Log #40: On earth as it is [4/5/10 - 4/11/10]

by Ryland Walker Knight

—How it falls, plays, waves

• Alamar [Pedro González-Rubio, 2009] This one's playing SFIFF53, and I watched it on a screener with headphones. That seemed okay to me. It's a quiet, small thing. But it's also impressive photography of a world I'll likely never know but through this magic medium. It further impresses me that González-Rubio is his own cinematographer and that he barely gets in the way of these three generations and their time with water, and an egret. More in my festival preview, I promise, which should probably hit the webs this week.
  
• Read My Lips [Jacques Audiard, 2001] Supremely entertaining and ingratiating quasi-thriller. I think it's more interesting than Beat That My Heart Skipped, too, though its aural effects are only employed when it suits the filmmaker, not the story; or, though it's clearly Devos' movie (and what a joy that is!), the forced perspective registered by the soundtrack is inconsistent. Which is to say that Audiard has a lot of ideas, no doubt, but he's not exactly rigorous and he's not exactly free-wheeling. Will be interesting to see how this flux plays in Un Prophète, which I expect to like, as I've liked the other two I've seen. In all honesty, it'd be great to make something this accomplished, sturdy and engrossing. There's even a few jokes.
  
  
• Dodsworth [William Wyler, 1936] Nice to see something with a happy ending after the bittersweet, brush-the-edge finale of the McCarey. Walter Huston is a little loud, but still nuanced, and Mary Astor's calm makes me somersault with hope that, yes, life is long and I'll be presented plenty of opportunities to find a real help meet some day down the line. Also, Wyler's got some chops, duh, and a penchant for playing with focus in key moments. Brian already tweeted about the pivotal phone, but I'd also like to point to the mirrors, specifically the one in Vienna that keeps fantasies "outside" or "off" the real world.
  
• Make Way For Tomorrow [Leo McCarey, 1937] Lived up to the hype, and the precedent set by the other McCarey films I love. But I don't have anything to add to what Danny wrote here, or what Tag Gallagher wrote for the new Criterion disc, which I'd urge anybody to enjoy with or without a lover. Also, I'd urge you watch The Awful Truth directly afterwards. And then I'd urge you to keep your job.
  
  
• Greenberg [Noah Baumbach, 2010] As Dan Sallitt said to me last week, I don't get why Baumbach has to make everybody so nasty. But I laughed a lot, and loudly, in that almost-empty theatre. Hiring Harris Savides was a wise choice, as was casting Greta Gerwig, whose seemingly natural élan turns preternatural next to Ben Stiller. I don't know how she sold that attraction so well, but it's got a lot more to do with lust and loneliness than with true chemistry. And the movie seems to get that, too. But I don't think Ben Stiller can play that as well as Gerwig can, and everything she does masks that in the ways we all mask those impulses. A curious picture that's almost something; if it weren't hilarious, it'd be nothing.
  
• Micmacs [Jean-Pierre Jeunet, 2009] As far as festival openers go, this is fine. Will probably make everybody exiting the Castro on the 22nd smile a lot, and desire company. That is, its capricious (arch?) proclivity for goofy gears at work is amiable enough and the filmmaking is Jeunet's least expository, to say swiftest, if forever ostentatious/ornate. Great final shot, though.
  
  
• The Sopranos "Made In America" [S6E21, David Chase, 2007] # Nearly every single line makes me laugh, but it's dry and dire, too; nothing's as outlandish as it could be. Some of that's the performances, too, but a lot is the writing and the directing. It's the best kind of surrealism that matches "the world" to dreams' fluid, deft, associational tilt on actions—or that possibility in formal arrangements—be they sounds, like the ring of a door opening, or accidents, like a car in neutral rolling over a dead head, or anything else, like the aphasia one faces in a sea of others or like the absurdity of a cat staring at a dead man's cheesy portrait.
  
  
• Plastic Bag [Ramin Bahrani, 2009] Finally got around to watching this because a good friend said he liked it. Doesn't "side firmly with things" in the end, as Ignatiy wrote here, and it's only the quality of Herzog's voice (and what kind of intentionality that brings) that gives the little ditty anything. It's pretty, I guess, but it's still about human desires, not a bag's. (Similar problems as with that Pixar paean to bathos and trash.)

—I should look for leaves?

Viewing Log #35: Baby birch bleat bang [2/22/10 - 2/28/10]

by Ryland Walker Knight

—Culture clash

• The Holy Girl [Lucrecia Martel, 2004] Just as soon as I wrap up another Word Doc, I'm gonna give this a go, finally, for words to be read elsewhere and later. A real "thinker," as they say.
  
• Shutter Island [Martin Scorsese, 2010] # Yeah, I went again. More shortly. But, quickly, I'll say that the music is the best part and that I was surprised at, again, how everything feels.
  
  
• Landscape Suicide [James Benning, 1986] Okay, I get it now, Matt. Great, just great. Was more partial to the first part set in Orinda, but not only because I used to live there and manage that movie theatre; also because her interview, with all its stammering and indecision, not to mention her note of confession and all its pain, made sense and made her isolation in herself feel real. Put otherwise, it turns the formal into a pathetic appeal. Gein, on the other hand, became more othered, less human. I'd love to see it again, or read a smart text about it, to address my curiosity with its gender divide. At first blush, my neophyte eyes say it's maybe the film of the 1980s. Maybe not my favorite, but easily one of The Great Things.
  
• American Dreams [James Benning, 1984] Kinda like a great video podcast (only so emulsified that's a silly comparison) with three different threads twined and abutting/overlapping. I spent most of my time reading the Bremer letters and listening to "the radio" while largely ignoring the particulars of the Hank Aaron cards and jigsaws. For that reason, it took me a while to realize that the numbers that kept fading up and down were his home run totals tallying up. Overall a pretty damned tight picture, one worth a look at least twice. And there is a curio corkscrewed into it: Benning himself. From Milwaukee, he must have been a fan of Aaron, and may have collected more than a few of those cards, if not all of them. And what does his inclusion in these dreams mean? I'm not one for investigating behind the screen all that much, but it seems impossible not to here, despite the abundance of material culled from general Americana. Because, if Benning's singing this song (these songs), what's his dream? Only to critique? Or just to witness? How's it not his diary, too?
  
  
• Shutter Island [Martin Scorsese, 2010] Plenty surprised by this one, but not by the so-called twist, and not because I "saw it coming" or whatever but because everything fits from the get-go. Plenty more to say, even after all the internet mess. Will try my hand at it for another outlet shortly. Mostly I dig stories about storytelling, and architecture, so this was a treat on that level. And it kicked me in some sore spots in unexpected ways.
  
  
• The Wire: "The Target" [S1E1, Clark Johnson, 2002] Somehow forgot all about this episode. Not a single scene seemed familiar. The pacing's all wonky, nobody's in a rhythm and it's only the dialog that's interesting. Or so it appeared to me. I was tired and full of risotto. Still, there are some good things, of course, and some jokes, but it's so damned self-serious it's kind of obnoxious. Maybe I'll go through Season One again while it's on demand. I do want to see the "Fuck" scene again in the context of its episode.
  
  
• Lost: "Lighthouse" [S6E5, Jack Bender, 2010] Kind of like a big 45 minutes of "duh" (but what do I know?).
  
• Winter [Nathaniel Dorsky, 2008] tweet: all in the rain beads on that hood / truly SF / floating quince blossoms in plastic, & so many circles / the wettest, most palpable
  
• Aubade [Nathaniel Dorsky, 2010] tweet: bright, static / color lines dont twirl / purple rises, stands, almost billows, sways / closes with a door closing
  
• Compline [Nathaniel Dorsky, 2009] tweet: aerial, more angular / more pools of light round clouds / a ribbon of blue carousels across a diagonal near forever / lift off
  
• Sarabande [Nathaniel Dorsky, 2008] tweet: a nest, thatched thick / to reorient gravities / to look *through* things at the world.
  
  
• The Same River Twice [Rob Moss, 2003] # The first half hour or so, for a little ditty I'll link to soon. For now: Karen Schmeer, you knew how to weave things. Now this film takes on even more sentimental value—and I never got to meet you! Also worth noting: can't wait to go rafting this summer.
  
• A Serious Man [Coens, 2009] # Yikes! More here, in simple and (I guess) serious terms. The revisit made me think of sound a lot, and tuning, but that didn't make it into the finalized edit. In fact, I think a lot more things. I could probably write two thousand words, not just six hundred, on this movie.

Viewing Log #30: Color cannot clean a canting [1/18/10 - 1/24/10]

by Ryland Walker Knight

—Sat behind Godard.

• Casino [Martin Scorsese, 1995] # Like for the first time. I'm blown away. This is the ur-Scorsese picture. Everything's dialed up delirium, all the colors and lights and camera movements. For such a sad and scary movie, it's damned fucking giddy. I'm publishing this as I'm watching it, so my giddiness is sure to wane as these fools keep fucking up their silver lined lot.
  
• Californication [Most of the third season] It was way too easy to do errands and little writing projects and just plow through this in one day. Rain played a part, but, also the sex.
  
  
• Playtime [Jacques Tati, 1967] # Yes, the best. Really: the best.
  
  
• The Seventh Victim [Mark Robson, 1943] # I tweeted a hash tag (#bestmovieever?) that gets at how powerful this thing is for me, especially at this stage in the game, with its weight and frisson of social anxieties. More Monday.
  
• Cat People [Jacques Tourneur, 1942] # Simon Simone's nose, let me tell you, can do things to a boy. Also, Tourneur's pace is all wonky: a real jam of angles keeps this from slipping down easy. More Monday.
  
  
• A Letter to Uncle Bonmee [Apichatpong Weerasethakul, 2009] Watched on The Auteurs for free (click here) and then wrote this little nugget about it.
  
• "Parisian Goldfish" by Flying Lotus [Eric Wareheim, 2009] Watched at the behest of Danny while talking Coachella. It's really something. Watch it here. It's very NSFW. It's weird: how much is celebratory? How much is a joke? Can it be both? I'm continually flabbergasted by the audacity of T+E.
  
  
• Band of Brothers, "Currahee" Episode 1 [Phil Alden Robinson, 2001] Halfway decent, but a lot of it is what I hate about war movies and World War II movies in particular. I appreciate that generation, of course, since it gave us its youth in ways I can't imagine, but I'm pretty sick of it getting called "the greatest" all the time. Weird to see so many British actors playing Americans, including Simon Pegg of all people.
  
• The Sopranos "Live Free or Die" (S6,E6) [Tim Van Patten, 2006] # The world opens for one man, for a bit, in the form of a vase and a bed & breakfast. Too bad you know this natural can't escape that hateful haunting in his history. There's more Paulie's than Tony's in this world. Even with Bacala's dunderheaded "Well we can't have him in our social club no more; that I do know."
  
• The Sopranos "Mr. & Mrs. John Sacramoni Request..." (S6,E5) [Steve Buscemi, 2006] # A devastating episode of perceptions: misinterpretation abounds, even from the people fearing it the most (ie, Tony). Then again, the biggest perceptive revelation—Vito's true identity, as a gay man, um, coming out into view—is deferred an episode by Tony's misguided attempt to reassert his power. Oh, man, men make bad choices.

Viewing Log #29: Spots like Fort Knox [1/11/10 - 1/17/10]

by Ryland Walker Knight

—Sixteen minimeters between me and you

• Jour de fête [Jacques Tati, 1949] # Straight from my notebook: J. Tati just gets it. Life's cycles, all circles, a merry-go-round of comedy. And why not have a laugh? The body's the best joke machine—it's your number one interface with the world. Life, for Tati, is bounded by one's capacities to move through this obstacle course; all we can do is hurdle and parry and jump; all we do is dance with things. Tati's definitely an artist of things. Things: a bike, a pole, a tent, animals, hills, fences, night vision (of a lack of it), booze, a piano. And everything circles back in the end. The world's too fast, too, it seems, for things to elude you forever. (Also worth noting: so much more dialogue than the others.)
  
• L'École des facteurs [Jacques Tati, 1947] A perfect little sketch for the bigger feature to follow.
  
  
• La Captive [Chantal Akerman, 2000] # Lots here, including Vertigo right off the bat and a lot of Levinas-like investigations of "the other" and how confrontation takes different forms. My second Akerman, believe it or not, and easily a right angle away from that linoleum-bound block of process that made her name. Still, makes me want, even more than normal, to see more movies made by women about women. There's a reason Bigelow gets a lot of pub: she's into boys in the way a lot of male filmmakers are into girls. But this one—this lady and her film (her films)—is all about how the differences in sex (during cinema, embodied in gender, across a windowpane) make a difference in how we act. Wild but true: this is Proust! Phew! Makes me want to know those books (that book?) all the more! I think I'll have more to say soon. (Also, I'll have more on Akerman when I finally get around to Icarus Films' recent release of D'est, which everybody assures me is an odd blood beauty.)
  
  
• The Sopranos "The Fleshy Part of the Thigh" (S6,E4) [Alan Taylor, 2006] Really great movement between threads in this one; written very well. And there's even a quick fade to black punctuation at one point, not to mention the treelines of the final moments moving from Tony's respite by the pool to Paulie's beat down of the Barone heir and then back again (twice!) to show what's in the background of all this big life of grab-all.
  
• The Sopranos "Mayham" (S6,E3) [Jack Bender, 2006] An underrated episode, no doubt, even though one might call the coma-world a bit of a reach; I, for one, totally dig all the cross-consciousness interaction because there are jokes, as ever, to go with the scares. Also, Paulie is amazing.
  
  
• Gone To Earth [Powell and Pressburger, 1950] Fucking fell asleep. Twice. I felt like an idiot. Still do. However, what I did see was pretty amazing, though Brian tells me I missed a lot of contextual "a-ha"s as the film closed.
  
  
• Fantastic Mr. Fox [Wes Anderson, 2009] # For a memory jog over breakfast I watched a few moments, got some laughs and a few notes.
  
  
• La Captive [Chantal Akerman, 2000] Amazing first eight minutes. Then an amazing cut to a title card, which prompted me to shut it off. I tried again the next night, but other things and people got in the way.

Viewing Log #28: Shape the way you play [1/4/10 - 1/10/10]

by Ryland Walker Knight

—Won't help to hold inside

• The Headless Woman [Lucrecia Martel, 2008] # I don't know why people said this was inscrutable. It seems perfectly open to me. Every edit matters and, though nothing's explicit, you have all the tools/information you need to reassemble this brain, this so-called mystery. There is no mystery, in fact, there's only the frame—windows, doorways, sometimes doors are windows, even a car is a frame filled in—and our Vero is forever pushed to its side. Sometimes she gets to throng up an image, but even then her eyes are often off to one side, or looking past this box of light she's in and making brim. I'd love to teach this film in a hermeneutics seminar. We'd read Ricouer and Bazin and Borges and Gadamer. I could keep watching this movie for the next month, but I won't; I'll probably just watch it once more then wait for it to screen in a cinematheque. I watched it with headphones, which certain felt apt and enveloping, but I can only imagine it packs more punch in the dark, sitting alone. (If I'd seen this in time for our double bills, I might have entertained the idea of writing about this flick and Gertrud, or Day of Wrath. It would have been the opposite of the pairing I did come up with—a true vision of light, of lightness even (however colored by hurt)—but sometimes you need the weight to better frame what bubbles up.)
  
  
• Up in the Air [Jason Reitman, 2009] Sure, that was fine; there were things to like. But, come on, how many condescending pats on the back do we need? I'm not advocating for some muddy road, per se, but Clooney's charisma can only do so much to make a shiny object, like this riveted thing all aligned, feel spontaneous. What's more, Vera Farmiga is gorgeous and talented and I wish to hell she would get a role that didn't flip her, however strong, into such an easy mark.
  
• The Sopranos, "Join The Club" (S6,E2) [David Nutter, 2006] # The best acting the show's got. Easily one of the best episodes ever, too. Would love to talk about this show and its silly brand of surrealism with Alain Resnais.
  
• The Sopranos, "Members Only" (S6,E1) [Tim Van Patten, 2006] # So good. Starts with Burroughs, ends with one of the biggest shocks in the series. I was surprised, again, at the ferocity of Junior's dementia. More inspired is the subtlety of that final segment's true structuring device: the pasta. We cut from Gene's suicide by hanging to Tony pouring spaghetti (I think) into boiling water, singing, and the episode ends with Tony gurgling in close-up as dinner continues to bubble under the image, signaling not only that this could, truly, be the end for Tony but that we've reached a definite point of no return; no matter what happens (we know now that Tony lives, duh) things will never be the same. Which, of course, goes against the whole ethos of the series finale (the whole series, really) which is all about how patterns so easily calcify while life marches on. I guess we're just talking a narrative turning point more than anything. And, again, the thing that separates this series from, say, The Wire is that its narrative is as brisk as it is brutal; i.e., its sidewinding always pushes something—some dread, some death, some delusions—forward.
  
• Tyson [James Toback, 2008] Mellow Mike is an amazing human being. Hell, Iron Mike was, too. The movie may be "so-so" but its story, his story, should be heard/seen. And in monologue form, what else can you ask for? Indeed, there's some cinematic play, here, too, with all this shifting and polyphony, but the real value of the film/video is its enduring status as a love letter.
  
  
• The Headless Woman [Lucretia Martel, 2008] So, yeah. This one. Best of the decade? Up there for sure. More soon, I trust. Until then, here's some of my favorite people/writers on this marvel (1) Martha (2) Danny (3) David (4) Koresksy [at No.2] (5) Glenn (6) Fernando (7) Sicinski (8) Nathan (9) Danny talking to Ms Martel. —Quick poll: where you at on the other two this lady's made?
  
  
• Death Becomes Her [Robert Zemeckis, 1992] Waiting for the plumber, I reacquainted myself with a few chunks (here and there) from this barf bag of grotesqueries. Maybe Phelps and Kehr are onto something: maybe Zemeckis really is some kind of special image'n'myth maker. I remember really digging the flick when my dad and I saw it in theatres, but, now, wow, it's like brand new (though still the same?). It's almost a toilet, though a shiny one, complete with shit and piss and pissy face-making. And in HD!
  
  
• In The Mood For Love [WKW, 2000] # Cuz of everybody's lists, and to wash that exacting movie out of my brain a bit before bed. I mean, wouldn't you rather dream about Maggie Cheung in form-fitting dresses more than eye-gouging and barn burning?
  
• The White Ribbon [Michael Haneke, 2009] # I don't want to say I saw through it the second time around but I think I saw through it the second time around. I've tried again and again to be charitable to this dude's movies since a couple people I love kinda love these flicks, but, at this point, fuck it. More soon, when it opens here in the Bay, but if you want to read a pan I nod with then you should read this bit of bile from Mr. Waggish.

Viewing Log #20: Sporting lint [11/9/09 - 11/15/09]

by Ryland Walker Knight

—All things shining.
Most of the week was spent not watching movies. But, as happens with an active calendar, the wait for the weekend brought me some special sights made richer by my recess. More Resnais, mostly, but also some time for some TV comedy. If you follow me on twitter (@ryknight), you know that I watched some Curb Your Enthusiasm earlier this week, but this week's episode, seen live on the East Coast feed with Cuy, was even better. We laughed hard, we laughed a lot. I also laughed plenty during Stavinsky... [Alain Resnais, 1974] despite its melancholy and its slow downturn. I'll say more in another post. Ditto for Muriel [Resnais, 1963] and Night and Fog [Resnais, 1955], which proved a tough pair. One's a knot, the other a nightmare. You can watch the nightmare "history lesson" by clicking here. The Dark Knight [Christopher Nolan, 2008] # sure still has plenty of night time fire frights, but it's hardly as effective in the bright autumn sunshine of a lazy Sunday afternoon in San Francisco. After a stroll for some Blue Bottle, we caught the big chase, the jailbreak, the wild dog window shot, and the hospital bit; we concurred that Heath was cut, and probably due to his junky habits as much as genetics. Then we watched a couple of Party Down episodes. Not only is Lizzy Caplan too cute and Ryan Hansen a surprise scene stealer, but Steven Weber is too funny in his guest spot creeping up all creepy like with his lazy eye and pitch-perfect accent. Clearly, I've been missing out on something hilarious. Now, naturally, after a doze, I'm fading to sleep under that familiar spell of The Thin Red Line [Terrence Malick, 1998] #.


—of course a sentry

Qu'est-ce que c'est? Convergence?

by Ryland Walker Knight

Surprise fowl marked for murder

Viewing Log #18: Saints break stains and blue runs red [10/26/09 - 11/1/09]

by Ryland Walker Knight

This second week back in the Bay has been awfully full of commitments that have kept me from the movies. I've spent most of the week looking at Jeanne Dielman, 23, quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles [Chantal Akerman, 1975] # in preparation for an overdue image-essay that will hit The Auteurs shortly. Once again I'm reminded of how amazing the film is, but, also, how little passion I have for it; I regard it through a veil, almost, of painful echoes. I have found time for some television this week, though, with the finale of this latest Peep Show series as well as another Curb Your Enthusiasm (and one yet to catch up on from last night)—not to mention NBC stuff, like 30 Rock, which keeps proving its smarts week in, week out, by playing dumb. Other than that, there was only one other movie of my stack that I got to, and tardily, last night: I Know Where I'm Going! [Powell & Pressburger, 1945]. Given my fatigue, it shouldn't surprise you that, though I loved the picture, I don't have much to say to account for its typically gorgeous tale of restraint. The obvious thing to say is that its use of off-screen space is fantastic: you can feel the pull of all that sits beyond grasp or fogged-galed-rained out of sight, the way conduction works. Fate, these filmmakers would have you believe, is an equation, a leveling, maybe, where the world finds its balance.

—Le fou, for real

The Monday Evening Wire. No More Steps. Episode 60, "-30-"

by Cuyler Ballenger

[I want to quickly say that I really enjoyed writing these weekly re-caps, they were as fun as they were challenging (this was my first attempt at any sort of "serious" writing online). So thank you, Ryland, you're a sharp as shit editor and a generous host. Additionally, this final season of The Wire brought together some of my closest friends each week in my living room for food, drinks, jokes and insights. Thanks to you all Rach, Al, Cam, Willie, Ry.]

Well, it's all over, and while I knew last week's episode couldn't be topped, the finale sure didn't disappoint. I think for the final write-up I might try something new and give a brief look at each element of Baltimore.
The Hall
Carcetti had no idea what to say or do about the news that the homeless serial killer -- the one he's been using as a platform to run for governor on -- never was. We've had the luxury of watching, week after week, as the case compounded into the pile of unbelievably large poop that it is, but taking it all in one dose was too much for Mr. Mayor. In the midst of threatening Bond and Rawls with their jobs, Carcetti was interrupted by a laughing Norman, who was genuinely amused. I think I had one of those "'Road to Damascus' moments" right there, when I realized he is one character who's become only annoying. His snide one-liners about life in the hall are tired and no longer witty. On the other hand, Carcetti's chief of staff, Michael Steintorf, who the show has I think attempted to make only annoying, has become not only bearable, but really intriguing. He and Levy are the only non-street characters who, because of their acting, have turned evil roles into almost like-able people (I know a bunch you will probably disagree, and I'm fully aware Levy could never have been the guilty pleasure Snoop was, but Michael Kostrof and Neal Huff were great last night). Anyhow, it all worked out again for Carcetti, as McNulty's actual police work brought a face to the homeless killer and effectively ensured Carcetti's place in Annapolis come November. (I believe the politician Carcetti is based on, did in fact become governor.) The hall was exciting in season four. Seeing Carcetti's charisma and optimism in the mayoral race was a nice change of pace from the pain that was the school, but with really nothing more to offer to this season, save the constant bitching, I don't think the show would have suffered without him.
The Paper
From the season premiere, I knew it would be an uphill battle for the paper, having to compete with last season's power house, Edward Tillman Middle, and a battle it was. As I stated almost religiously over the past ten weeks, there were standout performances, mostly from Clark Johnson's Gus (who directed the finale), but Tom McCarthy's Templeton ended up capturing my attention as well. Templeton's final scene, one of many within the signature concluding montage, had him on stage at Columbia with Klebanow and Whiting receiving a Pulitzer they may just have to give back, going down in the books with Blair and Glass and the others Gus listed off earlier in the episode as notable phonies. There was no question D. Simon had it out for The Sun all season, and seeing his head peeking out from above a cubicle, but tilted down, obviously working, was icing on the cake. He is still working hard to report on a story everyday in Baltimore, he's just found a more potent medium. But there were signs of hope for the paper last night, even though Alma was canned. Fletcher's piece on Bubbles was printed, Sunday edition front page center, and though Bubbs was initially hesitant about publicizing his story, seeing as the only reason Fletcher could proffer for consenting was that "people will read it and maybe think differently," in the end, Bubbles' sister let him come up from the basement and join her family, showing that Fletcher's claim, like his writing, was true. A city as messy and gritty as Baltimore doesn't require reporters to embellish anyway, just people who are willing to look around and take part in their city. This is a point Simon made quite clear when an article on Omar's death was cut from the paper two weeks back. And it is made further visible in seeing Gus stay at The Sun, and knowing Simon himself still lives in Baltimore.
The Law
Jimmy and Lester were hung for their scandal, but neither put in bracelets. Actually, it seems as though they both got pretty good deals. Lester retired with pension, to his wood carvings and his girl. Jimmy looks like he's taking a break from the Jameson, and while he may not see any pension, he won't see prison either (as long as Marlo doesn't, more on that in just a minute). I've never seen him as content as when he looked at Beadie, taking off is coat and gun and said, "yea, home." He put in only thirteen years, and while Carver joked at his wake about a certain organ putting in considerably more time, the essence of the crack rung true. Jimmy expelled both his physical and mental health on this last case. And I commend the show endlessly for the way they handled the final resolution. It seems everybody was concerned with what would actually happen to Jimmy and Lester. Would they walk? Would they do time? They did neither, but that wasn't even the emphasis. The reason that Michael, Snoop, Marlo and Chris were the focus of last week's "Late Editions" was so the finale could be devoted Jimmy's wake, the literal death of the police drama that was the root of this series. In the green-lit local, the camera moved around the BPD's finest, each displaying the traits we know them best for: Jay being the wise-ass wordsmith, Bunk smoking his cigar, Carver just being that stand-up guy he is, Sydnor tucked in the corner attentively watching and Jimmy and Lester in the center of the action, being praised overtly the same way they've been praised subtly throughout the course of their time on the show. It was a long scene, but not too long, just the right length to be affective and not cheesy, and it ended fittingly; with Lester watching, Jimmy opened his wallet and handed a bill to a homeless guy as he walked off down the dark street. I guess he figured he owed him one.
The Street
I should first say that I feel sort of stupid for commenting last week on Andrew Johnston's argument of what Michael would come to be, for if I had just been a more attentive reader, I would have noticed that he had already seen "-30-" when he wrote his article for "Late Editions." Sorry dude, I was projecting my wishes for the show, instead of just paying attention. You were right, obviously. Michael has been my personal favorite since early last season when he wouldn't take the money from Monk (on behalf of Marlo) to buy back-to-school clothes. He walked off and Marlo approached him from across the street, in almost a run, something we had never seen him do before, and has not done since. He accused Michael of being a coward, in so many words, for not taking his money because he thought he might know where it comes from. Up to this point, Mike had not made eye-contact with Marlo, but the accusation instantly popped his head up, offering Marlo a look not so unlike the one he gave Snoop before he sent her shattered skull through the driver-side window of her SUV. Marlo's reaction was strange, a sort of smile, followed by a glance back at Chris who was watching the whole exchange. Marlo acknowledged Mike's presence, his intensity, his wit, and he liked it. From that episode, Michael quickly became a killer on the same level as his tutors and moved up the ranks within Stanfield's crew. He showed a couple signs of disapproval with the way Marlo handled his business, but nothing that hinted at him having some sort of serious moral code. I mean, he did attempt to kill Omar! Michael came off as an independent dude, sure, but so did Cheese. Simply inserting a shotgun into his hands, throwing a black hood over his head, teaming him up with some random guy and having him disappear into the darkness was an unnecessary (and sort of lazy) way to remind us that there are gangstas like Omar. I don't think any fan of the series would have been upset had Mike gone and jacked Vinson with the nine he was using before. His character was well articulated and bad-ass enough for us to believe he could just be Michael, not young Omar. That being said, Tristan Wilds, great job son!

Marlo walked. Chris will do life. Cheese will do death. And Monk will do twenty. Marlo sold Vondas for ten million and won't lose a dime to the law. But his last appearance was debated about for maybe a half hour after the show's conclusion last night. What did that scene mean? Marlo obviously still needed to know (immediately, as it were, for he didn't bother to lose the suit) if his name was his name. Well, it was and it wasn't. The two kids he approached didn't know him, but he never really made his face known, and he didn't actually say his name. When they flashed on him, he diverted the gun shot (in a move that looked all too natural for the martial arts-trained Hector) and threw a quick right hook to the jaw. The other dude dropped his knife and the gun sat at Marlo's feet. In the silence of just another anonymous, abandoned West Baltimore street corner, Marlo took a deep breath, assessed his minor wound, sort of smiled as he looked down at the gun, half nodded his head and whispered "yeah" as the camera pulled away from him. To me, that was Marlo's way of understanding that he only had a name in the first place because he did shit like that. That he wore the crown, he ran Baltimore, and even though he won't go invest in harbor-side property, he won't remain on the streets. His abilites there (on the street) are unmatched, the show has proven that; Stringer and Joe are dead, Wee-Bey and Avon are locked up for life. He needed to know that, he needed to almost lose everything he just gained to come to terms with his future position in Baltimore, whatever it may be.






"...the life of kings" - H.L. Menken

The Monday Evening Wire. Just a Step Behind. Episode 59, "Late Editions"

by Cuyler Ballenger

Clocks and maps open the best episode of any show I've seen (save any Sopranos and the finale of John from Cincinatti). Freamon, like clocks, knows what time it is, and Sydnor, like maps, knows where it's at (insert Snoop's "ya heard" right here). Within the first ten minutes, Monk, Cheese, Chris and finally Marlo are all arrested. Sydnor is smiling. Freamon is triumphant: he stares down at Mr. Stanfield, he kneeling, roll of cash and cell phone laying out in front of him on the street. Freamon shoots Marlo one last look, holding the confiscated phone in one hand and the clock in the other, and I can see him repeating the line he just said to McNulty over and over in his head, "Oh hell yea!"

But "Late Editions" was a two part episode really, the first part devoted to the "good day for the good guys", and the second, a poignant look into most of The Wire's key characters' motivations, fears and futures. I'm not sure why Snoop wasn't picked up (maybe because she was in the meeting with Levy), but the goodbye point/wave Herc offered her was enough to keep me from questioning further. With all the key players locked up, not to mention the Russians at the drop site, and Snoop, high enough up in Marlo's ranks to have earned a certain immunity, attention was turned to Michael as he was the only "source of information" Marlo could link to their arrests. And though Chris believes Michael didn't say anything to Bunk (which he didn't), Marlo has never been one to base his decisions on the character of his victims, telling Chris essentially, "Michael goes or you go." Snoop, being the only one left on the street, is left with that task -- one that proved fatally difficult, in yet another intimate and creepy point blank blast to the skull. Over at the The House Next Door, Andrew Johnston noted that this scene set the stage for Michael to become the next Omar. I can see that, I guess, but I'm more inclined to think that D. Simon paints a more complex picture of the Baltimore streets, as he made clear earlier this season by insisting that "Marlo isn't Joe" and, further, that Marlo isn't Avon -- whether or not they are set to be cell-mates. Yes, there are undeniable similarities in Mike and Omar, but Omar sobbed when Butchie got killed, whereas Mike told Dukie he couldn't even remember last year just moments after he didn't hug his brother goodbye. The streets are the streets, sure, but it does a disservice to the show on the whole to consider them (the streets and those inhabiting them) as cyclical or repetitive.

Johnston did say one thing I very much agree with though: Jamie Hector brought it! Both the scene in the holding cell, with his three boys, and, later, orange-clad with Levy, Hector revealed new sides to his character as his Marlo's circumstances changed. It was a move which matched the drama of the episode, one that reminded me Mr. Stanfield's inner intensity is what got him to where he is now (well, I mean, before he was arrested). The question I'm asking myself tonight is, Would I be satisfied if Marlo wasn't included in the finale, but just Levy speaking on his behalf? I only ask this because there is so much to cover next week, what with Carcetti's bid for the capital, Gus' investigation of Templeton and above all, the fates of Jimmy and Lester, I can see the streets taking the back seat to city politics. If that is the case, and Chris is locked up on a murder charge, Snoop (bless her evil soul) is dead and Michael is on the run, the Baltimore drug game took a major blow, one serious enough to leave an inkling of hope for kids like Bug.

Sadly, there is something terrible on the horizon. Something really pointless and stupid, though it does come from arguably, a good place. Kima ratted out Jimmy and Lester to Daniels. I swear, the ring of Marlo's phone in the evidence locker was almost as heartbreaking as Dukie's tears as he parted from Michael and walked down the wrong alley. The episode two weeks ago devoted to Kima allowed her to step back and re-discover why it is she does what she does: to protect kids like her own and help those who are past protection, like the boy numbed to life after his family lost theirs. But her actions this week were done out of a kind of blind rage, and they are going to reach further than she calculated. The case on Marlo will be compromised, and with a lawyer like Levy, a sort of more powerful Clay Davis (scary!), I wouldn't be surprised if Marlo escaped this charge. Kima, if I remember correctly, had never acted this erratically in the past, and this shortsighted fight against corruption may have next week ending on a disappointing note after all.

Namond, like Randy, got his cameo, although his was considerably more positive than the latter. Bunny was a better teacher than he was a cop and maybe a better father than teacher. Namond looked and sounded sharp, preaching about how shitty the U.S. treats Africa, a new kind of global argument about this country from Simon (though one that I didn't read into much, given the speaker). No matter, Namond, standing tall at the podium, sporting a suit, talking about something other than himself made me smile. And because in "Late Editions," we saw the first of probably many doors, closed in Michael's face and Dukie's future on the same smack Mike was pushing, the optimistic sun shining down on Namond and family as they walked to their towncar was especially rejuvenating.

Over at the Sun, Gus is doing a bit of police work himself. Or, as he calls it, "scratching an itch" named Scott Templeton. Given that the focus of this season was meant to be the press, and there are so many stones still unturned, I imagine I'll be able to spend a great deal more time next week investigating this sect of Baltimore myself. I'll say, for now, if the message we are to walk away with this season is that there are lying reporters and there are honest reporters, both in the lowest and highest ranks, this aspect of the show clearly failed to provide the quality the rest of series offered. One long episode can change that though, and I hope it does.

I feel the need to end with Bubbles. I'm sure you understand. His speech was the single best moment in The Wire, both in story and directing. That cut to the empty stairwell just before he said, "my people couldn't make it today," was perfect. It was a subtle and smart way of revealing, before he even said it, that there is hope, there are strong individuals, there are survivors. It's not cheesy, it's not a cliche: Bubbles did it alone and that's something to be applauded. As is Andre Royo, someone I hope has a big future in film (and something I'm sure Ryland and I will discuss in more detail in two weeks). That speech spoke to other characters on the show as well, both overtly, in that he was finally able to come to terms with the death of Sherod, and, more discreetly, "aint no shame in holdin' onto grief, as long as you can make room for other things too." That's about pride, about not having too much. That's about Jimmy losing Beadie, about Kima making a bad decision to tell on her partner and about Michael "not remembering" the ice cream truck. Bad shit is gonna happen to everyone, and thats important, its important to own that and know that, but its important to live on, we are not all islands, this is a city.


Fuck a re-up, son! -- Freamon



(PS -Fuck you Herc)



Deserve aint got nuthin' to do with it -- Snoop